desire

to eschew
myself

i

did leap from my slim perch         away from me
forlorn from past love still to mourn
 

reluctant
in sanctuary

i fret some now, but do not mourn
not what i was before

and that red moment
clipped from view
so hid away
now shared with you

the hour of my discontent
 
at missing marks
and silly things
 
that only photos
 
know
 

 
we dry and stack laundry
towels blankets summer

children with paper lanterns
play in town

listen girls stop talking
 
 
cherry blossoms
smiling footsteps
 
 
 
behind the building dumpsters overflow

rival salon girls smoke and chatter metal bracelets
itching their thin legs

cherry blossoms in the bed of my truck
 

that one goofy guy who drives a van
is giving everybody the eye
 

  
boats

 
some practice violin
below deck
scuttle before night
dragging carts curiously
or children

some clean fish

fights break out
one man passes out drunk on the dock
what possesses him

laughter

from faraway people running on shore
downtown lights flicker on and back off
it is not dark enough
it is not time
 

it is cool now
divers strip skin
load equipment rinse
fingers
raw from scraping
red cheeks, sea spray

someone at the last minute forgets their key
wants

a sandwich
or directions

some can’t tell which way IS, some need to be
rescued
it all tastes like salt

(the pilings shooting great beams of light
glowing sky
pushing rockets from cement
up)
 

it is time to go home
 
 

Filed under Psychic Reader

 
we drove on Easter Sunday to the desert and found
ocotillo

you smelled a snake somewhere in the stone
surrounding the loop trail

no one was on the road to the badlands
the wash, a jilted crevasse straining towards grand
you took my picture on the ledge

returning we hurried over farmland
purple wisteria
crusty and limp
dry air stripping scent and blooms
pale lavender barely falling into place

on the fence someone had hung a coyote carcass
which rotted and shrank in the afternoon heat
and the valley, moist from green hoses strewn across sweetened land
quieted for night

in the bedroom the dark pulls the images

sun sinking
elevation

groves of orange blossom rising up, filtering out the desert dust
 

little valleys stretching up into the sky

 
and on the road
contorted face, twisted body

that woman was dead

I wish I’d never turned my head

the vehicle’s cage    what I saw
hush, now
   be still

it is only us that’s left to pick up the pieces.

tonight it is wisteria,
farmlands
and unfamiliar roads

to take me home
 

Filed under Psychic Reader
  
In a box

The home I’ve made for you
is not soft but it is safe
four sides and a top
and even room for you to breathe
some dirt and grass
two dingy flowers
water when you are thirsty
(or to drown)
a rock in the corner taped down

you only come out when I’m
pretending not to watch.

Curl up in my hand
smooth and warm.

Filed under yum cupcakes!

 
Our kitchen table’s a road map
not of where we’re going but where we been

Makin’ tea

tracing names on my face
like her fingernail on paper

in the mirror I check myself           out

Jeanette Pereira
Moise Bonin
Helene Rosalie Mendoza
Elodie Granger
Josefa Lopez
Iris      Priou

Aspasie Bonin **head shake hands out vibe four times**

drink your tea, Susanne Cormier

Marquerite    Sonnier    Gautenot
Anastasia Guillard
Isabel de H’orta

go outside and play in the Canary Islands, Catalina Rodriquez

Juana Rodriguez
Maria     Perira

mind your peas in Grenoble, Queen Angel

After awhile I check back
in the mirror I say

Queen Angel   real loud

What you doin’ in there girl? she asks

close eyes whisper
 

Queen Angel
my favorite Mama
of all mamas on the chart

 

Filed under Psychic Reader

 
a house sparrow flew in the front door and got trapped in our window

beating wings against glass in the window facing the street
looking up to the hills over the heads of tourists

in the corner of the salon the girls huddled
 

When I walked toward the bird, it flew.

Filed under Psychic Reader

 
rounded teacup
so many petals
pale apricot mist
a washed out sunset
 
only enough to sink and sniff
peach wine
 
 
once I was picking a perfect bloom
and got stung by a bumblebee
in the ribcage
 

Filed under Psychic Reader
  
Russell

we sip ice water and wait for rain
two green metal chairs
a tree
capiz wind chimes all the way from Mexico

blades of monkey grass in the breeze
birds finding their nests with thunder

their chirping dying into salty air

wind flipping twisting
bushes
around edges of an old house

watching the road we count cars in colors
each time they go by
keeping track of which ones
and how many

it always rains.

where do you want to go today

 
 
we go inside for lunch
behind yellowed venetian blinds
where glass bottles are saved on a windowsill
and my grandmother has clipped every one of her driver’s license photos
for posterity

Filed under Psychic Reader
  
Icarus

fourteen days and seven years ago
you built a tower of stone
beside the sea upon the shore
so i could see your wingspan
as you dipped above the icy bowels below

above the sea your arms would rise
and slowly with the tides
above the sea your form was free
and i could see your wingspan
as you dipped above the icy depths below

~

fourteen days and seven years ago
i left the house of stone
beside the sea upon the shore
turned (my) back on (my) tower in the sand

so you could know your wingspan
as you dipped above the churning waves below

above the waves your form was free
alone above the sea
over the sea your arms would rise
forever with the tides

and you could know your wingspan
as you dipped above the icy bowels below

tipped back into the watery ebb and flow

diving beneath the rising tide

and i could see your wingspan

 
as you lay upon the cold dark ocean floor

Filed under Psychic Reader

« Previous Entries